Life was never perfect
by xAnonymityx
Summary: A lot of people look at my friends and my time at Hogwarts and think that my life must have been great. Perfect, even. Well, I have news for you. Life was never perfect.
1. Best of Friends

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. Making no money, not affiliated with JKR, Warner Bros, Arthur Levine, or any other official HP place-a-ma-bopper**

**This chapter is dedicated to every teenage girl in the fandom**

**A/N: Sirius Black narrates. The story begins pre-Hogwarts.**

_Chapter One- Best of Friends_

This morning, like almost every other, I wake up to the sound of Regulus stomping down the steps, making as much noise as a wounded Hippogriff. Who would think a scrawny little nine year old could make _so much noise_? I think he must tape bricks to his feet; there's simply no other explanation.

I roll over in bed, open one eye to see the rising sun gleaming in my window, and sit up groggily, stretching. I never was a morning person. The mirror across from my bed mentions that my pajama top is buttoned unevenly, and I shoot it a _look_. I don't know why it's still in here. You'd think I would get rid of the annoying thing, but I suppose I'm just too lazy.

That's what Father tells me _all the time_; that I'm lazy. I suppose he's right. He would know more about that sort of thing than I would. The only people outside the family that _I_ get to talk to are the Snapes and the Malfoys, and certainly none of _them_ are lazy.

Actually, I suppose the Malfoys are related, or at least almost so, considering Narcissa, my cousin, is set to marry one of them soon. I don't really know Narcissa that well. She's already seventeen, and I'm only ten, which means she's too mature to talk to me.

I hear things moving around in the kitchen, which means breakfast will be ready soon. I'd better get down there before I get in trouble. Blacks are always prompt. I swing my feet over the side of the bed, and try to remember what's happening today. I think it's important, but I really can't remember. Hmm. Well, no time for that now. I have to get dressed.

I sort through my things and decide on dark blue robes, today. They're some of my nicer ones, and I need to look passable if something is _indeed_ happening today. I hope someone will mention it at breakfast; I hate asking about that sort of thing. Everyone just stares at me like I'm really daft for forgetting it- whatever _it_ is.

When I get downstairs, I see Mother and Father starting in on their breakfast, Reggie already being halfway done with his. Father looks at me sternly when I sit down.

"Promptness" is all he says. I get the message. I was late.

"The Snapes will be here in a half an hour; eat quickly" Mother says, looking at Reggie pointedly, as though to tell me it would behoove me to be more like him. I smile. At least today I would have someone my own age to be with. When the Malfoys visit, I have to sit in the parlor and be polite and agree with everything they say. Today, I can go off with Severus and not worry about accidentally offending anyone or breaking any family heirlooms by knocking over my tea. Severus Snape is my best friend- my only friend, really. We get in loads of trouble together. The only other people remotely my age that I'm around are Bellatrix, who I hate- she's such a brat- and Regulus, who isn't that bad, really, but he's paranoid about getting in trouble. He's such a baby sometimes.

The charm that tells us when someone's at the door goes off just as Kreacher is clearing my plate. I push my chair back so fast it accidentally runs over one of his feet. He apologizes, and I forgive him, quickly, because I want to get to the door as quickly as I can. Father opens the door, shakes hands with Mr. Snape, and the rest of the family follows him in. Our parents start talking as Severus squeezes past them to get to me.

"I snuck my dad's broom here," he whispered, "We can learn how to fly." He pulls something out of his pocket quickly and flashes it to me. It's a miniature version of the latest model- the Comet 200. Shrunken, of course, for easy storage, but I'd bet anything Mr. Snape would never guess that his simple charm would help his son sneak his prized racing broom out of the house.

I grinned. Our parents were very strict about things like that- they believed a lot could be gained by refusing us a privilege. The only problem I could think of was where try the broom out. While the muggles couldn't see the back yard, anyone from inside the house could, and it would not be in our best interest to let ourselves get caught. Then, I remembered something. I extended my polite greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Snape, who were still chatting with my parents in the hall, and excused myself and Severus. They nodded, so I led Severus down the hall, and up two flights of stairs to my bedroom, where we could discuss our brilliant plan to learn flying without parental interference.

On our way in, the mirror informed me that my robes needed ironing. I extended a rather rude hand gesture to the offending decoration, and that effectively shut it up.

"Show it to me again?" I asked Severus, practically beaming. He took it out again and laid it on the bed. I looked at it in awe. A _racing broom_. And here it was, just calling to me to ride it.

"Where are we going to ride it?" Severus asked, whispering.

"In the attic. It has a contained engorgement charm on it- It goes as big as you need it to"

But, that thought sparked another thought. I groaned.

"What?" Severus asked. I sighed. "Engorgement charm- we need one, unless you plan on riding a broom the size of a toothpick"

"I hadn't thought of that." He admitted.

"Of course you didn't. Because, if you had, we wouldn't be having this problem." I told him. He screwed up his face in a funny expression that I recognized as a scowl, because he had used it on me many times before. It was nothing like my father's scowl, which made me feel small and a bit stupid. Sev's scowl rather reminded me of a cat who had just eaten something undesirable and was beginning to feel it.

I would have never guessed just how hateful and affective that scowl would become, after years and years of practice. Back then, we were friends, back when my life made sense. No, it wasn't perfect, and I wasn't particularly thrilled with my family situation, but it still made sense. I knew what to expect. I was never caught off-guard, and I knew how to handle things.

Prongs, the git, buggered all that up for me, of course.

**o-o-o**

**A/N- about the ages of the Black sisters... I always pictured them as older than MWPP, for some reason. Also, I have the age order as follows: Narcissa is the oldest, Andromeda is the middle, and Bellatrix is the youngest, at about three years older than Sirius.**

**To the readers: Alright, with this story, it's your choice. Would you prefer short (about twice this size) weekly chapters**_ or_** chapters about four times that size, but only once a month? Let me know in a review!**

**xo- Laura**


	2. Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: Well, once upon a time there was this princess named Laura, and she owned...**

**Nothing.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my sister, who's pretty darn cool sometimes**

**A/N: Okay, I know, this took FOREVER to get out. I really apologize. I had some issues with family and school and injuries, and life just wasn't working my way. Actually, I should be doing my mound of relentless homework right now, seeing as it's a school night, but I felt so terribly bad about not updating that I decided to pull an all-nighter and bring you some lovely chapters to keep you from coming after me with pitchforks.**

_Chapter Two: Hogwarts_

I really wonder why they do this to us. Make us wait in this chamber like this. I suppose the teachers get some sort of a thrill out of watching all the twitching, sweating first years wonder how they're going to die.

I know, of course, how it all works. Andromeda explained it all to me a long time ago. You just walk in and put a hat on. That's all.

A hat.

I hear the kids next to me whisper about dragon and I roll my eyes. Then I hear someone talking behind to me, saying my name. I don't turn my head, because that's a sure way of letting them know that you're listening, and then they'll stop talking, and you'll never get to hear what they were saying about you. I learned that from Uncle Bartholomew. So, I just fiddle with my cloak fastenings and listen closely.

"See that one there? He's a Black. Mum told me all about them Blacks. No good, them Blacks. Slytherins, the lot of 'em."

I suppose it's true, that we really aren't any good, as a whole. It's not like I've ever seen anyone in my family exactly contribute to society. But just because we weren't _good_ didn't mean we were _bad_, really. Some people just think in such black-and-white terms.

Ha. Black. The color of darkness, night, and traditionally, evil. I can see where people might get that impression. It's not like my relatives are all the nicest of people. They were almost all Slytherins, and Slytherins just aren't _nice_. They're...

Well, I'm not really sure what Slytherins _are_, actually. Rather bright, very methodical, and never superfluous in any way. Do-what-you-must-do sort of people, from what I understand.

I'll probably be a Slytherin. It's not that bad, really. The way this kid talks about it, you'd think being in Slytherin made you the heir apparent to Satan's throne, or something highly dramatized like that.

I can't see where I'd fit in to any of the other houses. Surely not Ravenclaw, like my father, because I simply am not _studious_ enough. School is just a place that gets you to where you're going later in life. It's not the end-all of life. It's sort of an in-between place. I don't think I'd be a Gryffindor, either. I'm not a particularly brave person. That's Bellatrix. _She's_ the brave one. She talks back to her parents and never turns down _any_ dare, _ever_. And even she ended up in Slytherin. So, surely there's no chance of _my_ being placed in Gryffindor. And I hope to all heaven that I'm not a Hufflepuff. I think my parents would disown me. Really. Forever.

Not that that would be such a bad thing, on reflection, but it wouldn't be terribly pleasant either.

Severus, who is standing next to me, looks nervous. I'm positive he won't be a Gryffindor, either. He'll either be a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Definitely. I'd bet my life on it.

The doors open and that young witch that we saw before, what was her name? Mac something? Anyway, she tells us to follow her. She looks pretty uptight. I hope I don't have her for any subjects. She's a real stick in the mud, I can tell already. Just by the way she walks, one heel after another, click, click, click, never breaking her stiff rhythm, holding her shoulders up like she's holding up the sky with them. She's far too stiff for someone that young.

The idiot kid behind me, the one I mentioned earlier, gasps and stares up at the ceiling like a giraffe, about to trip and break his neck. Probably a muggleborn.

Well, even I have to admit, it is a pretty cool sight, but it's not like it's the first time I've ever seen something like that. My room at home has the same charm on it, to make it look like a daytime sky. But, mine's better, because when I'm in a bad mood, it gets all cloudy and stormy, and when I'm happy it's sunny.

So, guess what, Hogwarts, you're not _that_ cool. I refuse to be impressed.

The hat, actually a rather pitiful looking old thing, rips open its brim and starts to sing.

_Each year I sit in boredom_

_Upon a shelf so high,_

_And try to think of one more tune,_

_Watch one more year go by._

_And every year I notice_

_More and more of all the traits_

_Possessed within a member_

_Of a team, a dorm, housemates._

_In four groups you are divided_

_Depending on your mind_

_And I, the one with the dreadful task_

_Must put you with your kind._

_In Slytherin are those_

_Who are cunning, smooth, well-bred,_

_Students who'll do anything_

_To simply get ahead._

_Hufflepuff, she welcomes all_

_In her who wish to learn_

_Who all work hard, play fair, and love_

_Believe in rules and turns._

_Fair Rowena Ravenclaw_

_Loved clever ones to teach_

_The intellectuals, the brains,_

_All the days, a week._

_Gryffindor is home to he_

_Who bravely lives and dies_

_No cowardice accepted_

_In those under Godric's watchful eyes._

_And so, each one, I must decide_

_Where you go,_

_Where you'll reside,_

_And each of you will try me on_

_And I'll decide where you belong_

Tremendous clapping fills the all, and the stiff calls out the first name. Abercrombie, Evan. It's the kid behind me, you know which one. He's buried underneath that ridiculous pile of rags that calls itself a hat for a few seconds, before it yells out, "Ravenclaw" and he runs over to the long table the whole way on the right. Oh well, at least he won't be in _my_ house, because I've already determined that I'm not going to be a Ravenclaw.

"Backerby, Britton"

A pale looking boy with floppy brown hair, who gets sorted into Slytherin. Hmm.

"Black, Sirius" Oops, that's me. I was counting on at least five people to go before me. So much for that idea. I eye the hat suspiciously, but in the end decide to just drop it on my head and get this over with as quickly as possible.

And then, it starts talking to me. In my head.

Well.

I certainly wasn't expecting _that_.

"A Mr. Black, I see. Your mother was a Slytherin, was she not? And your father a Ravenclaw?"

"No."

"Ah, you lie, Mr. Black. I know what houses they were in. I always know. Why did you lie to me, Mr. Black?"

"I just wanted to see if you really did know, or if you were just guessing. Then I'd know, if you accepted my answer, that you really aren't all that great and all-knowing, and that perhaps you're not that spectacular at sorting, in which case, I would suggest to the school a significantly less senile sorting instrument."

"What a perfectly Slytherin thing to say. You're obviously fairly bright, but you don't like school, so Ravenclaw would never have you. Actually, I'm leaning towards Gryffindor."

"And why might that be?"

I was perfectly curious. This old hat was turning out to be quite an interesting thing to converse with.

"Because it took a lot of nerve to talk back to the sorting hat like that, especially being the firstie that you are. Yes, definitely Gryffindor."

I suppose he must have shouted the last word out loud, because everyone is looking at me. Some people at the middle-right table are clapping, some look rather bewildered, and some look totally indifferent.

As I made my way there, I realized that this was going to be a challenge. All of my relatives were staring at me from the Slytherin table, like they were trying to process what just happened. I sighed and sat down at the very end of the table, to watch the rest of the people go through.

The next new Gryffindor was a rather pretty red-head girl, some sort of flower name, (she sat across from me, and smiled nicely, and I began to think that maybe this wouldn't be too bad) then a fuzzy, brown haired kid named Lupin, who sat next to me. He looked rather shy, and didn't say anything to me, just watched the constant parade of first years to the hat without comment. Another stick in the mud. Fabulous. Then came another large, giggly, pink looking girl named Ellie Naff, one more girl, (a tiny little blonde who looked sort of cross) named Arcadia, and I was about to give in to the sinking realization that the only other boy in my house would be stiff #2, when another boy came along. Thank _goodness_. This one, Peter, wasn't so bad. He looked less shy, at least. Finally, someone to talk to. Just as he had sat next to me and I said hello, another boy came to sit down.

Yes.

This wasn't turning out to be nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

This one was rather skinny-looking and had eyes that were a bit too close together, but the way he marched up to that table and plopped himself down, you'd think he owned the place.

Obviously not a muggle-born.

Severus got sorted into Slytherin, and I smirked at him, a face that said entirely, "I knew it!" and he sort of shrugged and walked in the other direction, towards the Slytherin table. Oh well. Maybe we'd still have some classes together.

And, finally, one more girl (how many _are_ there?) joined the table, with a big smile and an uninteresting name, and the Gryffindor table was complete.

It was the start of an era.

XxXxXxX

**A/N: I really would like some feedback on how I portrayed Sirius's character. I was going for a little predjudiced, but mostly indifferent, sort of nonchalant. Let me know. Best reviewer gets a cookie. Next chapter will be out as soon as my schedule allows.**

**-Laura**


	3. Potions Class and Mysterious Disappearan...

**Disclaimer: Well, once upon a time there was this princess named Laura, and she owned...**

**Nothing.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Callista, my most dedicated reviewer. (P.S. check out her awesome stories under Callista MacLeod)**

_Chapter Three- Potions Class and Mysterious Disappearances_

Well, it turns out that I'm pretty decent at potions. I really just don't understand how people can mess them up... all you do is follow directions.

Not that I'm usually that great at following directions, considering how much they resemble rules, and the whole world knows how bad I am at following rules.

But, anyway, as I was saying, Potions just seems to come naturally to me. It's my favorite time of day, Potions class. For one thing, it's the only class we have with the Slytherins, and, truth be told, I'm infinitely more comfortable around them than I am the Gryffindors. I get to partner up with Severus, which is a relief, because he's the only person here at Hogwarts I can really talk to.

The other boys in my dorm don't get along with me. The one- Potter's his name- is an arrogant berk, and he always says rude things about my family when he thinks I can't hear him. Someone should tell him that he's not exactly the smoothest or most discreet person in the world. Plus, he insists that he's the best Quidditch player Hogwarts has ever seen.

Well.

We'll have to see about that.

I can't wait to wipe that bloody perpetual grin off his little pointed face.

The fuzzy kid- Lupin- is strange. No polite words can describe his oddness. He's a bit off-center. He never talks and when he does it's in sort of a high pitched, fast voice, like he's nervous about even _talking_ to other human beings. Plus, he's got a habit of blinking far, far too much and he listens to swing music. And he wears jumpers, neat little button-downs that probably came from his father's old school trunk. Definitely of a different breed.

The other one, Peter, never seems to be around the dorm. Once, I saw him running down the hall away from Filch, who was screaming something about Exploding Jacks. Now, that kid may not be too bad. I'll have to find out more about him. The only problem with him is that he talks constantly. Even in his sleep. Yes, that might get a bit annoying after a while.

So, I suppose I'm stuck friendless and alone, except in Potions where I can finally be with my own kind.

I owled home about my getting in Gryffindor, and, while the folks seemed as though they wished I were in Slytherin (I'm beginning to, myself, because I've noticed all the strange kids go into Gryffindor) they seemed pleasantly relieved that I didn't get dumped into Hufflepuff. They thought I was going to, you know. Especially father. He doesn't think I'm very bright _or_ brave _or_ cunning, and you could tell from the day I got my Hogwarts letter that that was all he could think about.

"Daft duffer of a son. I'll bet a million galleons he gets thrown in Hufflepuff. Do you think Child Services would be after me if I disowned an eleven-year old?"

Yes, that was almost definitely his internal monologue. He did say in his letter, though,

"_Sirius, even though you've been unfortunately separated from your friends and family, I want you to remember that you can still go to them for advice any time you need it. I'm sure they'd be glad to help you. After all, you may not be Slytherin or a Ravenclaw material, but at least you didn't land in Hufflepuff."_

The muggle-born next to me, Henry Ackerly, spills his mandrake root, interrupting my thought process. I roll my eyes. Well, it's not like muggle-borns shouldn't come to Hogwarts or anything; I mean, they have rights too, but perhaps they should be in beginners' classes, so they don't accidentally give us all boils or something. Yes, I think that might be a good idea. I stir my Dentist Solaris draft twice clockwise and watch it congeal slowly and turn a mint-green. Done. Severus finishes ten seconds after I do, and I half-smile to myself. A silly, juvenile part of me insists that I won. I finished first, so he lost. I'm proud of myself for upholding my record as the best student in the class.

Ackerly's still trying to clean up his mess, and his potion's a runny fluorescent orange. I suggest to him that perhaps he should add his slug antennae before it's too late, and Severus gives me a _look._ You know, that _look _I described before, that almost-scowl that makes his forehead scrunch up like an accordion.

"What?" I ask.

"Why are you helping him? If he's that bad, he deserves the bad grade he'll get."

I stare at Severus. I know that he's the person at Hogwarts who understands me best, but sometimes we are simply on completely different wavelengths.

"It's not a test," I say, "Why shouldn't I help him?"

He stares at me pointedly.

I don't get him sometimes.

The professor collects the samples of potions for grading next time, and I look around and realize that most of the class got theirs at least close to right. Of course, most of them were just a shade or two off. Like Evans's for example. Almost right, but it's just a hair too thin. Another half a raven's claw would have done it. Still, she was close. I only see a handful of people who seem to have really messed up. Even Ackerly's seems to be decent. Potter, though, had trouble. His potion is emitting steam and smells like burnt tires, not to mention the fact that it's a sickly pink color.

Lovely.

I smirk and show him my own vial of perfect solution, and he rolls his eyes, but looks suitably ashamed.

Good.

He could do with being humiliated once in a while, to pull him down off his pedestal.

When I get to the Great Hall for dinner (Potions is our last class of the day), I see that Lupin isn't there. I wonder why. He was just in Potions five minutes ago. My insatiable curiosity has been set loose, and now I have to know. It's vital to my very survival, my very existence. It shall drive me to insanity if I do not find...

It's not my fault I'm overly dramatic. It's Andromeda's fault, I swear. She's the one who's terribly into theatre and the dramatic arts. I can't help what I've been raised around. Oh the woes of youth.

Well, all my internal monologues aren't helping me find the answer to where the Lupin kid has gone, so I ask Peter.

He shrugs and goes back to his shepherd's pie without a word. I see Potter smiling like the proverbial cat with the bloody proverbial canary shoved right into his wide mouth.

"What? You know?"

He looks triumphant and attempts to return mysteriously back to sipping his Pumpkin Juice, but he keeps glancing over to see how desperate I am to find out the coveted information.

I'm not stupid, and so I'm not going to fall for it. I simply nod as though I don't really care and serve myself another helping of carrots.

It's killing him. He wants to tell me. He wants me to want him to tell me. His face is about to explode. His ears are practically steaming. He'll blurt it out in

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

One...

"Family emergency- he left right after Potions"

I smile internally. This amateur has a lot to learn.

"Oh, is that so?" I ask, disinterestedly.

Potter is crushed. He wishes he could lord over me the fact that he knew and I didn't, but that only works when the other person appears painfully interested.

Which I don't.

One more point for Mr. Black.

**Constructive crit, please, if you have the time. If not, just drop a review that says you read the chapter. You really have no clue how much that would mean to me.**


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